For Sauron, For You
by Slim1
Summary: *TTT based, PWP standalone, slash* During the short battle with the Southrons, Faramir recognizes a certain face and the past threatens to return.


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Title: For Sauron, For You  
  
Author: Slim  
  
Rating: R  
  
Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns all characters. I own Iiron's name and that's it (not an OC; I named him because none of the Southrons have names and it would only be appropriate if I gave him one for the occasion). This fanfiction was written for pure enjoyment and no profit is being made.

  
Warnings: Violence, I guess? And slash . . .

A/N: I don't think this pairing has ever been done before . . . Actually, I know it hasn't. ^^ I submitted this one to LibraryOfMoria.com but I thought I'd post it here, too. It's a standalone, somewhat PWP, and a Faramir/Southron pairing. 

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'More Men going to Mordor,' he said in a low voice. 'Dark faces. We have not seen Men like these before, no, Smeagol has not. They are fierce. They have black eyes, and long black hair, and gold rings in their ears; yes, lots of beautiful gold. And some have red paint on their cheeks, and red cloaks; and their flags are red, and the tips of their spears; and they have round shields, yellow and black with big spikes. Not nice; very cruel wicked Men they look. Almost as bad as Orcs, and much bigger. Smeagol thinks they have come out of the South beyond the Great River's end: they came up that road. They have passed on to the Black Gate; but more may follow. Always more people coming to Mordor. One day all the peoples will be inside.'

- The Two Towers, J.R.R. Tolkien

* * *

Arrows whistled through the air, raining down on the small army. The hobbits watched with mixed feelings, fear and awe. Gollum's bulbous eyes widened and his mouth parted slightly, revealing small sharp teeth. Bodies littered the ground, the garb of the Men stained with blood. Some were breathing their last breaths of life, crawling in the soil and attempting to draw the arrows from their limbs as tortured cries were strangled to silence and the last of the Men crumpled to the ground.

*

Captain Faramir sheathed his sword and drew out his bow. Seconds later, an arrow sunk into the chest of a warrior and he fell, tangled hair swirling around his lifeless form. His Men began to return, but he strayed. The scene was gruesome and the air sounded with the silent screams of death. He stepped over bodies and looked around for discarded weapons, his eyes settling on a young Man lying in the grass, struggling with the pain caused by an arrow in his arm. His dark hair fell like a curtain around his face.

The green-clad Man quickly took an arrow from his quiver and aimed at the other, the sudden movement shocking the wounded warrior into jumping nearly an inch from the ground and inflicting more pain unto his arm.

Faramir's grave expression softened a bit at seeing those dark soulful eyes peering out through the curtain of hair. _Poor thing_, he thought. _Small and slender, unlike the rest of his Men. He should be dead by now, but he is not._ He pushed the thoughts from his head when he heard his army calling for him. Perhaps that was a good thing. A Man should never feel emotion toward his enemies. But he did anyway. This was clearly the work of Saruman.

"Come here, little one, and I will remove that arrow from your arm."

"Captain Faramir, do you not recognize me?" the boy asked, smirking a bit through his mask of pain and agony. 

"I recognize you as an enemy, but I do not fear you, for you are lithe and a bit helpless, I daresay. I pity you. I will take out that arrow and send you back to your homelands, where you can heal properly."

The boy laughed, which brought about a fit of hacking coughs. Blood tainted his lips and he had to lick it away from his teeth. "In war, you clearly do not distinguish the faces of friend, foe, and lover very well. Not that I blame you at all; it must be quite difficult to see my face through this horrid mess of blood that your troops have caused my Men to spill."

"Iiron." The name slipped through Faramir's lips almost like a small breath and he did not realize he had said anything until the boy gave a firm nod. Anger and hurt overcame the green-clad Man, and he scowled in defeat. He could not battle his emotions. "You are alive. And you have gone back to Saruman."

"He gives me protection, Faramir."

"But how? By sending you to the Black Gate, risking your life along the way? If I had not seen you, one of my Men might have killed you, or else you would have been left for disease and infection and blood loss to contend with. You would have died within hours. Foolish, you are. Very foolish. I should kill you right now, for you are a traitor and a stupid boy."

"Perhaps if you had not left me those many long months ago, I might not have returned to Saruman. He gives me what you have not, and cannot, my Captain. We are at war. You must not understand what a Man feels inside at these times. Everyone must fight; everyone must take a side and decide what they are going to fight for. The fate of this world comes from the diligence of our races, and what we put our hearts into. I gave my heart to you, Faramir, and you pushed me away. Saruman has not pushed anyone away, not as long as they are loyal. And I have been." Iiron stopped to cough some more, this time into his hand, which he had to wipe free of blood when he was finished. 

"I should be angry, and I am," Faramir murmured, his gaze on the boy, taking in all of the complex details of his clothing. He wore a black cloak fastened with silver and red hooks made from a hoop and a small metal spike. The cloak ended at his ankles, and from his position in the grass, dark boots covered with metal chains and clasps, dirtied from his journey. Around his shoulders was a wooden quiver for arrows, although there were none at the time. There was no bow, nor was there a sword. A black and yellow shield lie on the ground beside him, discarded earlier. The body hidden beneath this little armor was weak and defenseless; the boy was no older than sixteen and obviously not a trained warrior. He had been taken like the newly bred Orcs: without a second thought nor feeling put into his making. But unlike an Orc, he had not been born to kill. He had been thrown a few weapons and sent out as only a small child.

"You have shown me that already," Iiron said. "But what else are you feeling?"

"As angry as I am, I must say I am grateful for your survival. You are quite skilled with a bow, although you have none, but I presume you were given one before your journey began. As skilled as you are, I am not surprised that you are alive. If you had not had a bow, I would think differently. Time grows short. Please come to me and I will remove that arrow."

Iiron stood shakily, stepping over and on corpses, unable to keep his balance. Faramir gripped the small arm of the boy, helping him walk. When the distance between them had been eliminated, the blond Man broke the arrow and threw away the end, pulling up the sleeve of the dark cloak to examine the wound. The chocolate-brown skin around it was purple and red, clotted with blood. Faramir took out his dagger and held it to the boy's arm.

"Don't scream, my dear. You will attract the others." With that said, he cut into the flesh, removing the bloody arrowhead and tossing it into the grass. Iiron covered his mouth with a length of black garb, his eyes closing shut with a force that made Faramir shiver. The blond took the fabric away from the warrior and wrapped it tightly around the wound. 

"I appreciate this," Iiron choked.

"It is not much and it will not hold out very long," Faramir explained swiftly. "You cannot continue your journey alone; you will not live until then. Come with my troops and me. We will take you back with me. You may ride on one of the free horses. Iiron . . ."

The boy looked up at the Man attentively, his dark eyes shining. In them Faramir could detect the pain and isolation that their owner was feeling. The betrayal and lust also. He needed someone. He needed protection. In his mind he tried to bring back the memories from the fateful day when they ended their relationship and broke all contact, Faramir going one way and Iiron going the other. He failed. All he knew of was a difference in opinion, a forbidden love because of what they were, and a final kiss before departure. 

"Why has it come to this, my beautiful boy?"

Iiron searched Faramir for any signs of redemption. He saw very many chances, but he did not know how to take them. They were birds in the sky: when they came close enough to land, he could never catch them in his hands. They always escaped. And Faramir was like a bird, a graceful bird equipped with speed and accuracy, and Iiron was but a small warrior boy with clumsy hands and far too much determination.

"I don't know. Actually, I do know, but the terms cannot come to me."

"If neither of us can remember them, why should we continue to listen to the reasons?" Faramir leaned in and brushed his lips against the soft skin of Iiron's face, finally planting a firm, dry kiss to the boy's cheekbone. "Iiron... Your name is so sweet on my lips now... I must feel you again."

When the boy did not protest, Faramir took off his gloves and touched Iiron's neck, his fingers tracing patterns on the boy's clavicle. Then he stroked the unkempt hair, tangling his fingers in it and grabbing a handful fiercely while pressing his lips to Iiron's in a fiery kiss. The boy appeared too shocked to return Faramir's affections. The Man pulled away after tasting those beautiful, full lips.

"If I could have you, I would," he whispered huskily, trailing his index finger over the boy's profile, beginning at his hairline and moving down his forehead and over that perfectly curved nose, at last stopping on his tempting lips. "But this is not the time nor the place. Bodies of your Men obscure the ground and much blood has been spilled. It is a time for remorse, not love."

"It is their remorse, my Faramir. It is not ours."

Iiron grabbed the blond around the neck and pulled him in for another kiss, both warriors surprised by this act, but eager to keep it going. Iiron's lips were so familiar yet so forbidden that Faramir lusted for more in the worst way imaginable, moaning at the feeling of the boy's hot tongue stroking his lower lip. He opened his mouth slightly, just enough for Iiron's tongue to enter and duel with his own. The hand that wasn't entangled in the mass of dark hair was slowly finding its way down the boy's body, feeling him through his cloak and taking in all of his curves and firmness, not forgotten yet the center of many dreams of the Captain Faramir on lonely nights when he could dream. He rubbed Iiron's ass, grabbing his firm buttocks and attempting to slide a finger down his delicious crack unsuccessfully as his robes were in the way.

Faramir lifted Iiron easily in his arms and laid him down on the grass, pulling up the bottom of his cloak to his waist, where the task of undoing the boy's pants beneath awaited him. He unbuttoned them quickly, pushing them down to his knees. The undergarments were next, revealing his almost painful erection when they were also pulled down. Faramir lie beside Iiron and covered them both with his long cloak, kissing that beautiful skin fervently and feeling his naked form. Iiron undid and removed Faramir's tunic and trailed his fingers over his chest, adorned with the defined muscles of a warrior. He stopped at a nipple, stroking it gently until Faramir moaned in encouragement. Iiron kissed the Man, tongues performing their dance of love once again, for this time it was love that both of them felt for each other in the place of lust. Faramir fondled the boy's cock, causing him to moan deep in his throat and rub the blond's nipple harder. 

The Man's hand moved further yet, past Iiron's balls and to his tight asshole.

"Do you remember when I took you for the first time?" Faramir whispered against the boy's neck.

"Yes. I was a virgin and so were you. I have not slept with anyone since, my Faramir... for it is you I crave."

"And I you. I would not dream of giving myself to anyone else." The blond traced Iiron's crack for a short moment before slipping a finger inside of him. The boy whimpered in pain and pleasure and attached his mouth to Faramir's clavicle, lips sucking and teeth biting. Faramir felt Iiron's hot ass tighten around his finger and moved it in and out until his lover was used to it enough for him to insert a second finger. They kissed again, Iiron's fingers dancing over Faramir's chest and nipples. The blond began thrusting his fingers in and out of Iiron's ass, their two bodies moving together in unison as they tried to get as close as possible. Iiron's fingers undid the fastenings of Faramir's pants and he rubbed the Man's bulge, his small hands working quickly to pleasure him. 

"Captain Faramir! Do you wander still?" Men called from over the hill.

"No, no," the blond whimpered to himself, his breath hot on Iiron's neck and two fingers buried deep inside of the boy. Iiron pulled Faramir in again for a kiss and in the heat of the moment; they began thrusting harder and faster, without stopping, until they had to stifle their cries of pleasure. Faramir inserted a third finger into Iiron and rubbed his prostate over and over. The dark-haired boy hissed and grabbed Faramir's erection, stroking up and down until both of them were close. 

"Oh, Faramir!" Iiron cried, tilting his face up from the love mark he had just made on his partner's neck. 

Faramir tangled one hand in Iiron's hair, moving the fingers of his other hand harder then before inside of him, caressing that hidden spot that made the boy scream in pleasure. Faramir kissed Iiron one final time before coming under the soft, aggressive touches. Iiron came right after his partner, moaning his name loudly from beneath the cloak that concealed them. What a sight it would be to a passerby...!

After calming down from his climax, Captain Faramir stood and pulled up his pants and his cloak and tunic, covering himself modestly. Iiron did the same, letting his lover button his pants for him before placing a chaste kiss on his bruised lips.

"My love... Your arm." 

Iiron looked down at his arm to see that his wound had bled through the makeshift bandage. 

"I will look at that when we get back," Faramir said. "It appears from what I am hearing yonder that spies have been found. I wish more than anything I have ever wished for that I could have more time with you."

"Faramir, my fair Captain," Iiron mumbled, tracing the Man's jaw line with a slender finger. They began to walk. "I have waited many days and many nights for this moment alone... Surely I can wait one more."

The blond smiled. "Well then, let us hurry back to my Men. They must have missed me!"

Iiron laughed, and it was a beautiful sound, heard for one of the first times since he joined Saruman. 

"You will learn to laugh and smile and sing again," Faramir promised. "But I see you are already."

"You have taught me."

The winds shifted and a cool breeze ruffled Iiron's dark hair. Faramir longed to touch it, to run his fingers through it and kiss the boy all over his neck and shoulders. But like he said, it could wait another day.

"Love is of greater value to the soul than power," Iiron concluded suddenly, nursing his wounded arm. "And from that I can make my decision... I will stand beside you, Faramir, although I will be alone."

"You will not be entirely alone. You will have me."

"I will, yes, but my Men have not made it to the Black Gate. I am the only one, and I am not about to continue their journey. I will go with you, my love, where you can take care of me until my health is restored."

"Longer than that, my beauty. We shall be together longer than that." He slipped an arm around the boy's slender shoulders for a moment before releasing him, motioning toward a free horse. Faramir's heart sank at the sight of his lover leaving him, but calmed himself with the reality that it would not be for long. Iiron turned and smiled at Faramir though his curtain of long dark hair and mouthed, _I love you_. 

The green-clad Captain sighed in pure attraction and whispered, "I love you, too," letting the wind carry his words to the dark beauty that had once again joined the side of the light.


End file.
